The Boy Who Kicked Ass
by Z. Alexander
Summary: Dumbledore was wrong. Love is all nice and good, but when it counts, it doesn't matter who you love...it matters how much ass you kick. Or something. All hail the Boy Who Kicked Ass. Cracktastic oneshot, for your and my amusement.


Please, Officer; I really, really don't know where it came from! I'm not a dealer, honest! This can't possibly be MY crack!

Yes...yes it can. I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I don't own any ninjas. I just hire them to off my enemies.

The Boy Who Kicked Ass

* * *

Hagrid didn't find him. Someone else did. 

"I've been lying to you all," he confessed, avoiding Harry's eyes. "I'm _not _the boy you all think I am. I've got…unique powers; I'm _very _stealthy; and I'm very, _very _fast. And now that I don't have to pretend, I really think I ought to help you finish it."

"But…what…"

"Harry," he said firmly, "I know what you're going to do, and honestly, there's really only two ways to beat him. Now that you've died and come back to life like some sort of twisted modern-day…what was that Muggle's name? Uh…Jesus! That's right! Some kind of modern-day Jesus with a less painful death, you've only got two options. Either duel with him, and hope you don't die, or get the first shot. Whadd'ya say?"

Harry didn't want to think about this, didn't have _time _to think about this, didn't want to be responsible for another friend's death. But he was _right; _Voldemort, if he was able to kill Harry, would then kill everyone. "Um…just stay hidden, okay? I don't want you to die."

"Psh," he scoffed. "That won't be a problem! He won't even notice me before he dies."

"Are you…sure," Harry asked, giving him one more chance (and oh, how Harry hoped he would take it!) chance to back out.

"Of course I'm sure! It would be against the Vows I took to stand by and do nothing!"

Well…they were in a similar situation. And Harry, for the first time, realized just _how _much of that meekness was an act. On their way to the castle, Harry asked quietly, "So…why did you have to pretend?"

He received a look that clearly asked if Harry were as stupid as he sounded just then. "Would _you _want something like that known, if _you _could barely hold a wand properly? People would start asking you why you didn't have your priorities straight! I realized in first year that my forte _definitely _isn't magic, so I learned something else. Besides; my talents in Herbology really help me with this."

They reached the castle doors, and Harry glanced one more time at his friend. "This is it…are you sure you-"

"Come on already! Voldemort is _way _less scary than, say, Snape!"

Harry didn't even want to _try _to understand that strange logic, so he didn't. Instead, he nodded, pulled on the Invisibility Cloak, and pushed open the door. "Good luck."

"This is where we part ways, Harry. Do us a favor and stay alive, will you?"

"I plan on it."

Harry was feeling rather confident already; if only he could get there first, then he wouldn't have to worry about anyone else getting hurt.

But when he entered the Great Hall, he saw that he was too late. The only warning he had was the sound of metal flying through the air, and then a knife dug itself into the back of Voldemort's neck, between two of his vertebrae. Harry guessed it was a lethal shot. Lying there, bleeding on the floor, and almost dead, the Dark Lord looked pretty pathetic indeed. As soon as he threw off the Invisibility Cloak, he saw a wand being thrown at him – the Elder Wand – and knew who had thrown it, but never saw him.

All he really had to do was throw a good cutting hex, and it was over. All in all, it was a rather inglorious death…but for some reason, Harry didn't mind at all. The _point _was that the bastard_ was _dead, and the threat was removed. It didn't occur to Harry that he was probably in shock, because most people don't realize they _are _in shock when they…uh…are.

Of course, now that it was all over, people swarmed the one who had thrown the knife. Harry gave him a half-pitying, half-grateful look, and he nodded as everyone praised his name.

For once, they'd both gotten something good; Harry got to be Harry Potter, _not _the Boy Who Lived, _not _the Chosen One, and _not _the Man Who Has Several Ridiculous Titles.

And Neville Longbottom was being swarmed by adoring fans, all praising the Boy Who Kicked Ass.

Who would've guessed that Dumbledore was wrong – and the power the 'Dark Lord' knew not was actually awesome ninja skills?

Certainly not Harry.


End file.
